


A Punch In The Gut

by AgentOHare



Series: G1 Vore [12]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Belly Rubs, Burping, Digestion, Gen, Same Size, Vore, hunger, i guess, implied fatal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOHare/pseuds/AgentOHare
Summary: "Truth is, Counterpunch is only here because Punch is hungry"





	A Punch In The Gut

“This is the place, Counterpunch?”

Yes, I reply. I have a hideout near this secluded little glen. The canopy is thick enough that anything flying overhead will be blind to what's happening below. This minibot praised me for picking an area hidden from the Autobots. 

“Good. Were you followed? We can’t have the others or the Autobots knowing about this.”

No, the Decepticons are unaware of this place. And no Autobot’s ever gonna know what happened here either. Except me.

“Awesome.”

I lured him out here, said there was a cache to look over before we presented it to Lord Buckethead. This naive fool never thought twice about it. He was perfectly fine with discarding common sense for the slim chance of a promotion. Makes me care a little less about what’ll happen to him.

Truth is, Counterpunch is only here because  _ Punch _ is hungry.

See, I’m Punch, an Autobot agent. I’m also a triple changer of sorts. For some reason, Primus saw it fit to give me an extra robot mode in lieu of an additional altmode. This made me perfect for deep cover. I don’t mean to brag, but my persona, Counterpunch, is nearly flawless.

Nearly.

One fateful day, I was caught between modes by a minicon. I was unarmed, but by sheer luck he was as well. I managed to grab him before he could make a run for it and crush his commlink. I ducked into a utility closet to restrain him, but I had nothing to do it with. I had to work with what I had, or rather what I didn’t have- fuel. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was starving. So I didn’t have much of a choice but to eat him.

I expected to choke on his thrashing form and for his grimy armor to taste like ash in my mouth. But no. Oh, what a lovely set of flavors I discovered. Maybe it was because I was so hungry, but he was absolutely mouthwatering. All that drool helped me push him down, though I still had trouble. I was unused to swallowing large objects back then, and I nearly choked. He barely fit down my throat, but the flavor drove me into a feeding frenzy. I got too hungry to care, so I just crammed him in as hard as I could. My neck was sore as hell afterwards, but I did it. 

That was the first time I had squirming prey filling me to the brim. My fuel tank was at maximum capacity, wrapped tightly around my impromptu meal. The way he squirmed was something I’ll never forget. It was like some kind of strange massage, and it deeply relaxed me. My belly stuck out, heavy and loud. It was so loud that I had to lock myself inside of the closet. I remained there for a good few joors. Muffled sounds, gastric or otherwise, were my soundtrack during that time. I busied myself by pushing down the moving bumps his squirming caused. It was the world’s strangest game of whack-a-mole.

I remember the moment when I realised that he had stopped moving, looking down and rubbing my churning gut to no response. I was still obviously engorged, so I opted to stay a little longer. Gradually, my stomach shrank, until it was flat as ever a few days later.

The whole experience introduced me to the joys of being a predator. When I could, I’d pick off a minicon and drag him to one of my hideouts, where I’d enjoy my meal in peace before returning home with the information I’d gathered. The more I did this, the more used I got to it. I was able to gulp a minicon down with ease, and my tank didn’t feel so full. I’d stretched them out and gotten them used to large meals. I wanted to try something larger, so one day I tried to devour two minicons. I was rewarded with an even bigger, heavier gut. It felt amazing, churning all those tons of metal up into slurry.

For my troubles as a spy, I get a fair amount of energon rations from Autobot command. But sometimes you just want something a bit bigger, you know? Energon is one thing, but a nice, big con?  _ That’ll _ last ya. This time around, I’m going to try something different. I’m going a step up. That’s why I lured this minibot here.

I’ve been planning this for a while. Singling out a particularly naive ‘con was easy. Enduring the anticipation was not. Of course, I had to fast for a little while to make such an enormous meal possible. I had to restrain myself on the Ark. Like, I see a minibot walk by and my tank starts to moan and twist itself in knots. Those are allies, for Primus’s sake! I was relieved when the mission finally came and I split from the others. Good, because what I'm about to do is very  _ un _ -Autobot.

_ *GLU U U U RBLL LL * _

“Was that your tank, Counterpunch?  _ Damn _ con, you oughta  _ eat _ !”

I fully intend to.

“...I’m not really in the mood to eat.” I lied. Gotta keep up the charade, after all.

“Your tank’s sounds fragging pissed... You  _ sure _ you’re not hungry?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I can go at least a little longer.” 

“Okay… Just- don’t starve yourself on my part.”

Looks like my mini-diet worked a little  _ too _ well. Oh my poor, poor tank. You must be utterly barren by how much you're complaining. Are you trying to eat yourself alive? ‘Cause it sure feels like it…  _ Ugh _ .

I just need to wait a little bit longer. After all, the false beacon I planted is just beyond the clearing, between some trees. 

“Our signal’s up ahead.” I mention. “If all goes well, I think Megatron may give us a bonus.”

There it is, the glint in his optic. Decepticons have a tendency to step over each other given the slightest incentive, and I can tell that he’s planning to keep these spoils all to himself. Just as planned.

Visions of the nonexistent bonus undoubtedly dancing in his processor, he quickens his pace and overtakes me. He makes a mad dash for the beacon, snatching it off the ground.

“What the hell is this?” He leans down, peering at the beacon. “Slag. Counterpunch, I think we might’ve walked into a trap-!”

Before he can react, I live up to my name and jab him in the side of his head, smashing his commlink. Another quick jab to a neural cluster on his neck and he slumps, unconscious. This'll make the next step easier.

I override his access codes (a little Enforcer trick Prowl taught me) and reach into his subspace, pulling out all his weapons. He won’t need them where he’s going.

But my ordeal isn't over yet. I have to lug the con over to some bushes- cover for one of my secret little hidey holes. I know that I'm not likely to be seen as I am, but better safe than sorry.

And finally,  _ finally _ I get to enjoy my meal. Oh, I'm so hungry. This is going to be  _ divine _ .

Unlatching my jaw (a little mod of mine from vorns ago), I look all around me one last time to see if anyone or anything is watching. There's nothing there, and I close the latch on the hideout.

The con was thrown on the ground, so I prop him up. My tank burbles excitedly.

Unable to wait any longer, I open wide and work my jaws around the con’s head, made easier since he’s a minibot. His face ends up pressed against my glossa and I find myself overwhelmed by the delicious metals. Tungsten and Titanium and Copper, oh my! My glossa takes on a mind of its own and begins to explore every nook and cranny of the con’s face, prospecting for more flavor. Heh, I bet he'd hate it if he were awake.

My glossa inchworms further down past his chin, hooking beneath it and pulling the whole head up into my mouth. In response I lower my head enough so that the top of his head is right at my throat’s doorstep. I wrap my arms around him in a nonaffectionate hug, hefting him up. I lie down on a wedge of dirt, and I hoist the con above my head. This is so gravity can give me a hand. This con’s heavy, but I won't have to hold him for long…

Licking all around his head one last time, I swallow at last. The hydraulics in my neck jerk and I feel my throat yawn open. The bot’s weight causes his head to fall into my throat’s embrace. It feels like I've already got a good grip on him, so I swallow again. The mechanisms in my throat shift up and push down in a wave, grabbing the con and pulling more of him into my gullet. I can feel his nasal ridge scraping against my palate as he goes down.

With such little effort, the whole head is already inside. But now I have to worry about the shoulders. I nibble on the plating, attempting to stretch my mouth further. The shoulders were always the hardest part, at least for me. Dunno if anyone else eats people like I do.

It takes me a couple minutes, but eventually I twist and push my mouth over the shoulders. Luckily he doesn't have huge shoulder pads. But now I need to push all that metal down a tiny, thin channel. Much like my first minicon, I brute force it. My esophageal tube stretches easily, but this was a little much. I gulp as hard as I can, little by little. I twist his body and work the shoulders into my gullet. After some effort, my throat mechanisms finally get a grip around the wide part of the shoulders and start pulling down. The exertion is starting to make them sore, so I prop the rest of the minibot against the wall and start to massage my throat, pushing downwards from the outside in deep strokes. Soon, the shoulders are entirely engulfed by my throat and sinking.

The shoulders were the widest part of the con, so the rest of the body’s gonna go down easier. The midsection is sucked down relatively quickly. As I do so, I feel a little twinge in my belly. That twinge I know all too well- it's the feeling of my gastric port opening up. The upper body of the con is inching past the end of the esophagus, finally meeting the open valve. I gulp again, and my throat shudders, its grip slipping to drop its payload for a moment. As this happens, my minibot is pushed through the valve in one explosive motion, pounds and pounds of succulent metal thudding straight into the pit of my stomach. All at once, my abdomen balloons as if I had eaten three truckformer-sized cubes of energon. It feels like heaven. My tank gurgles in glee, heating up a bit in preparation for digestion. Churning, I feel it constrict tightly around the con’s head, probably to start pushing out digestive solvent.

The rest of the bot is still dropping lower and lower, slowed to a crawl without my assistance. So I give another gulp, and the con moves along. I feel the shoulders begin to push through, and another gulp grants them entry. The shoulders end up pushing my gut out pretty far. He's only a minibot, but I'm still gonna be stuck when I'm done.

The rest is easy. My throat’s beginning to ache again but nevertheless it continues to push downwards. After the shoulders push into my gut I slurp down what’s left of the legs. The feet scrape against my palate and sink into my intake, allowing me to close my mouth and savor the lingering aftertaste. With their passage, my esophagus finally relaxes. My fuel tank on the other hand strains even more, sucking in the legs so that the ‘con is curled up inside. And now our foolish little minibot is nestled snugly in my gut.

_ Mmm, _ what a haul.

My stomach is  _ gargantuan _ now. I can almost wrap my arms around it if they’re relaxed. The action pushes an air bubble free…

_ * _ _ GGG _ _ UU _ _ U _ _ RR _ _ rrrR _ _ A _ _ AAA _ _ AA _ _ A _ _ A _ _ A _ _ PP _ _ P _ _ P _ _ B _ _ ! _ _ * _

...and I let out a loud belch. Not like anyone will hear me. My little foxholes are well insulated against any method of tracking you can think of. As long as I stay in here, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I can leave anyway. A gut this big would barely allow me to walk, let alone defend myself. 

I was so hungry, but now I'm  _ sooooo  _ satisfied.

I knead my gut with both hands. Underneath the armor plating and taut protoform is a solid metal mass, easily several tons. My rubbing really kickstarts digestion, and I can hear bubbling emerge from the depths of my stomach as the churning becomes more vigorous. The growling is getting louder and louder, like water coming to a boil. Similarly, I feel my belly grow warmer. Heat helps with digestion, after all.

I feel something else stirring within my gut. 

“Nngh… Wha…?”

_ * _ _ g _ _ rr _ _ rr _ _ rg _ _ l _ _ l _ _ l _ _ ll… _ _ * _

“ _ Slag’s that noise? _ ...Counterpunch, where are you? Where am  _ I _ ? I can't move!”

Looks like my meal woke up just a little too late.

“Well, let's just say that all I really needed help with was finding a filling dinner…”

I hear a  _ no no no _ , and the thrashing begins.

“PRIMUS DAMN IT COUNTERPUNCH, LET ME OUT!”

His weight is being thrown all over the place, and it stirs up the gases inside me. Thanks to his efforts, a series of burps is squeezed out.

_ * _ _ br _ _ UUUUUUHH _ _ -OOO _ _ o _ _ rp!* _

_ * _ _ g _ _ r _ _ aa _ _ AAAAAA _ _ aa _ _ h _ _ p! _ _ * _

_ * _ _ u _ _ r _ _ o _ _ OOOOOOO _ _ RRRRR _ _ rr _ _ r _ _ p! _ _ * _

Now that I’ve gotten all of that out, I resume my abdominal massage, pushing down hard on my prisoner.

“Oh, don’t  _ -urp- _ worry. I’ll let you out… As soon as I’m finished digesting you.”

And the screaming begins. The movement gets even more intense as he tries in vain to free himself. I have a very strong tank, so it’s unlikely he’ll be able to upset it.

“Keep kicking all you want. You're my fuel now, and you're not getting out. I'm not going to relinquish a meal as marvelous as you. If it’s any consolation, you tasted amazing.” 

The huge meal, combined with the effort of eating it all, has tired me out. My optics feel heavy, and soon they flutter closed. I cannot even muster the effort to stifle a yawn, which has not gone unheard.

“Counterpunch, did you-  _ Don’t. _ Don’t you dare fall asleep you son of a- COUNTERPUNCH!”

The struggling starts again, but it is noticeably weaker. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s tired. His muffled shouts are cut of by gurgling fluids, eager to break him down into energy and nanites. Proud of my hunt, I cycle gently into recharge.

Heh, at this rate, I’ll be able to eat a full-sized bot sooner or later.


End file.
